


My Heart in My Hands

by raidelle



Series: The Beauty of Him [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Episode Ignis Verse 2, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gladnis, M/M, Mentions of Non-Explicit Sex, POV First Person, POV Gladiolus Amicitia, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raidelle/pseuds/raidelle
Summary: As Ignis sleeps beside him, Gladio contemplates his love for the man.





	My Heart in My Hands

It strikes me just how much I love him when he's asleep.

'Course I love him when he's awake. His sharp wit, his nurturing soul that's obvious in everything he does, his beautiful eyes, his impeccable accent, his sweet mouth and the delicious sounds he makes when we're making slow, passionate love... He's just an overall a gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful guy. Bite me.

But when he's sleeping, his guard is down. Every single one of those damn walls he's built around him to make sure he doesn't lose it when everyone around else does. Whatever "it" is. 

Most of the time, I'm not allowed a peek past those mental and emotional barriers. I know he doesn't mean to be closed off. It's just that he works better with that MO. More efficient, I guess. And he apologizes in the sweetest, sexiest, hottest, most heart-pounding way possible when he realizes that he's shut me out for a good portion of the day. So yeah, I don't mind the walls too much.

It's just that in moments like this, when he's all laid out bare in front of me, beside me... I have complete access to him. And it’s so pure, so innocent, that I just… It’s something that I haven’t even imagined I’ll ever have and now it’s here and it’s mine. He’s mine. I almost can’t believe it.

I always trace his scars -- with my eyes and, if he’s sleeping deeply enough, with my hands -- when were together like this. He’s gotten quite a few new scars since the sun rose again. There’s one on his index finger when he tried to cook breakfast, as exhausted as we both were after a marathon of meetings with the new Council. His knife slipped (I know that’s nearly impossible with Iggy, but fuck it, we were running on fumes that day) and he cut his index finger in a split-second of absent-mindedness.

Then there’s that row of newly healed stitches on his left arm, a product of Prompto’s enthusiasm to learn close-quarter combat. I wasn’t there when it happened and Prompto was so frantic with worry when he delivered Iggy home to me that night. “I wanted to give him a potion but he said he didn’t want to waste resources during this period of recovery!”

Of course Iggy would say that. Of fucking course. I gave Prompto a quick hug of thanks and reassurance, then pulled Iggy into our apartment to give him a longer, tighter hug that threatened to pull the crude but efficient stitches. “I’m fine, love,” he told me. He followed that up with “Dinner?” and that was that.

On his right shoulder blade is another mark. Not a scar but a tattoo. One of the first businesses to set up shop in the new Crown City was a tattoo parlor and Iggy was their first customer. Again -- of fucking course. But while I wasn’t too surprised that Iggy got himself a tattoo, the design was what caught me off-guard. It’s a single stalk of a gladiolus, rendered in black and white. It was small, barely six inches, but whenever I look at it, I feel as if Iggy had had my entire world inked onto his back.

My eyes and hands linger the longest on the marks on his face. Those left on him by that damned Ring (sorry Kings of Lucis, but uh, not sorry) on the ridge of his brows and under his left eye, on the bridge of his nose, and on his lower lip. Iggy doesn’t like looking at them too much. Not that he hates them or anything, but he says they’re a reminder of how selfish he can be.

To me, those scars are a reminder of his dedication. Of the beauty of his soul. Of how he is willing to make the ultimate sacrifice without second thought. Of how deeply he can love. And how thankful I am that he willingly and completely gave and continues to give that love to me.

His body is the map of my world. And he is my heart in my hands.

I trace my eyes up and down his body one more time, committing everything to memory (as if I’d forget), before I curl myself behind him. Molding my body to his, breathing him in and savoring each precious second of sleep, when he’s open and vulnerable like this. To me and with me, and only me.

Dawn is a few short hours away and I take what I can from this moment of peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add a couple more entries in this series, all on first person POV. Noct and Prompto for sure but maybe some other characters, too. Maybe tell me who you want to see next? :)
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://raidelle.tumblr.com/) and let's talk about all kinds of things.


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